



THE POET 

AND 

JTHER POEMS 




By 
RAYMOND GARFIELD DANDRIDGE 



The 

Poet and Other 

Poems 



By 

Raymond Garfield Dandridge 



Cincinnati, Ohio 
1920 






A; : ' 












o 






COPYRIGHT 1B20 

RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 

CINCINNATI, O 



©CI.A576134 
AUG 23 I9ZU 



IN MEMORY OF 
MY BROTHER 



Oscar William Dandridge 



Contents 



Page 

Foreword 11 

A. L. Imes 37 

Arise 39 

At the Bier of Hope 42 

Between Lines 40 

Brook, A 29 

Brother Mine 36 

Censored 38 

Color Blind 39 

Days 28 

Deceit 40 

Decreed 29 

De Drum Majah 58 

De Innah Part 41 

Disagreement, A 52 

Ease 35 

Eternity 48 

Everywhere 53 

Facts 47 

Frenship 32 

Gone West 50 

Gray Day, A 48 

Hahd Cidah 43 

Heritage, The 45 

In Ole Kintucky 46 



Page 
In Stripes 49 

Tttle Touzle Head 25 

Judge Ye Not 44 

Kassel B'ildin' 62 

Love 42 

Mah Depen'able Fren 56 

Masquerading 63 

Memories 26 

My Grievance 61 

Narcissus, The 55 

Old Glory 16 

One Word 57 

Opportunity 32 

The Poet 15 

Pretty Flower 59 

Purcaution 60 

Rain 54 

Recalled Prayer, A 17 

Red Rose 20 

Resolution, A 21 

Retribution # 24 

Roosevelt m 27 

Time to Die 16 

T °— 30 

To a Bird 26 

To an Unhanged Judas 23 

Toil Created 30 

toussaint L'Overture 63 

Tracin' Tales 51 

True Fren 22 



Page 

Sandy 64 

Singin' an' Prayin' 53 

Songs and Smiles 22 

Sprin' Fevah 28 

Sunset 50 

Supplication 31 

Unflinchingly 62 

Valuation 24 

Weaddah 34 

Zalka Peetruza 33 




FOREWORD 

T is a pleasure and an honor for me to write 
a brief foreword concerning the 
remarkable genius of the author of this 
sunny medley of poems. 

Even the most casual perusal of these 
pages will impress the reader with the wide range of 
thought displayed by the author. Only an inkling, 
however, is given of his unconquerable spirit. Shut in 
within four walls by a strange decree of nature for 
many long years, racked at times by the most 
excruciating pains, denied free intercourse among his 
fellow-men and handicapped in a thousand other ways, 
he has overcome all these and composed these spritely 
lines. 

This book and an earlier one should serve as a ray 
of light to those whose activity is curtailed by nature. 
They prove that although a man may become helpless 
from his shoulders down, he may exceed the wildest 
dreams of his friends if he has the perseverance 
and application to develop his latent talents from the 
shoulders up. 

The winning fight of Mr. Ray G. Dandridge, in 
producing a work of art in the midst of a constant 
battle with nature, has won for him a prominent place 
among the poets of the Ohio valley and a commanding 
position among the literary minded of his race. 

Born and reared on Price Hill, educated at the 
Whittier School, Mr. Dandridge is a true product of 
Cincinnati. His poems are based for the most part 
on his reflections on the earlier, active part of his life 



but he has, nevertheless, remained alive to the poetic 
possibilities of current events. 

His poems, "Roosevelt," in which he utilizes the last 
words of the late ex-President, and "The Heritage" 
show his deep interest in the affairs of today. His 
dialect poems are particularly striking and true to life. 
His poems, "The Poet," quaint, homely but too often 
true, "To an Unhanged Judas," "Zalka Peetruza," 
"Red Rose," "Old Glory," "Ease," and "Toil Created" 
portray a wonderful insight and appreciation of things 
worth while outside of the intrinsic value of the verse. 

The fame of the author has exceeded the limits of 
his boyhood suburb and his new book will no doubt 
add many new friends and admirers. I can only say 
in conclusion that he has my sincerest best wishes for 
continued success and that the last stanza of his poem 
"The Poet" will not hold good in his case : 

"Who mock his song, deny him bread, 
Then sing his praise when he is dead." 

WINSTON V. MORROW. 



The Poet and Other Poems 



RAYMOND G. D AND RIDGE 15 



THE POET 

The poet sits and dreams and dreams; 
He scans his verse ; he probes his themes. 

Then turns to stretch or stir about, 

Lest, like his thoughts, his strength give out. 

Then of! to bed, for he must rise 

And cord some wood, or tamp some ties, 

Or break a field of fertile soil, 
Or do some other manual toil. 



He dare not live by wage of pen, 
Most poorly paid of poor paid men, 



With shoes o'er-run, and thread bare clothes, 
And editors among the foes 

Who mock his song, deny him bread, 
Then sing his praise when he is dead. 



16 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



TIME TO DIE 

Black Brother, think you life so sweet 

That you would live at any price ? 

Does mere existence balance with 

The weight of your great sacrifice? 

Or,- can it be you fear the grave 

Enough to live and die a slave? 

O, Brother ! be it better said, 

When you are gone and tears are shed, 

That your death was the stepping stone 

Your children's children cross'd upon. 

Men have died that men might live : 

Look every foeman in the eye ! 

If necessary, your life give 

For something, ere in vain you die. 



OLD GLORY 



God's placid heavens mother you, 
His sunsets blend your bars, 
His endless fields of midnight blue 
Serve background for your stars. 



So near immortal Emblem grand, 
Cradled in the sky, 
As long as earth and heavens stand, 
You will not — shall not die ! 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 17 



A RECALLED PRAYER 



Sis Hannah May Liza, so Emphraim 

sayed, 
Stole out 'neaf a sycamo' tree an' 

prayed 
To de Lawd in Hebbin, an' she ast 

dat He 
W'u'd please sen' her a man 
, fo' company. 



Her prayah wuz answered ; fo' a 

week wen' 'roun', 
De Arch Decon Mordecai Joshua 

Brown 
Ast Sis Hannah w'u'den she 

share his lot, 
His hoss an' his buggy, his boa'd 

an' his cot. 



Straight away she etcepted, 

an' soon dey wor wed, 
"Fo' bettah or wussah" de 

preachah man sed ; 
An' Hannah wuz happy, she thot 

dat she knowed 
She had a reel he'p-mate to 

he'p tote de load. 



18 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



De honeymoon riz, den it sot in 

its tracks, 
Wen Hannah, po' Hannah, 'gan 

gazin on facks. 
De bank book he flourished 

wuz long ovahdrawn, 
An' paymint wuz jue on de 

close he had on. 



De hoss an' de buggy, he ast her 

to share, 
Belonged to his boss-man 

(Jedge Hinton Sinclair). 
His boa'd an' his cot she foun' 

meagah an' slim, 
In fack, his 'hole lot wuzen 

nuthin' 'cept him. 



Den Probitshun cut Jedge's 

dockit so low 
He foun' hisse'f forced to let 

Mordecai go ; 
An' seemed dar wuz nary one else roun* 

de town 
Dat had wuk quite suited to 

Mordecai Brown. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 19 



Meanw'ile, Hannah labahed, 

bofe early an' late, 
Wile Mordecai armed wid 

pipe, pole an' bait, 
Sot down by de ribbah, 

or loafed in de shade, 
Or stood lookin' on w'ile 

de checkahs wuz played. 

Et Barbah Shop sessions he'd 

freely discuss 
Shakespeare, League ob Nations, 

Stock Markit an' Truss ; 
Et Church or Class Meeting 

comman' in' de flo', 
He'd tell ob God's Glory whar 

man's wuk is o'. 



His appetite waxed, an' his 

drowsiness grew, 
'Till eatin' an' sleepin' wuz 

all he w'u'd do. 
Bofe meal time an' bed time 

he met wid a vim, 
But all uddah labahs proved 

strangahs to him. 



20 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



Enste'd ob he'p light'nin' po' 

Sis Hannah's load, 
De Decon klum up on her burden 

an' rode. 
Once mo', she stole out, 'neaf 

de varie same tree, 
An' prayed, "Lawd, please 

Lawdy ! taik dat man frum me.' 



RED ROSE 



I plucked a rose, a red rose rare, 
I placed her on a throne 
Within my heart; and there I dare 
To worship her alone. 

An idol, thus, I paid to her 
My constant vigil, love, and care. 
Upon my knees, I prayed to her, 
My whole heart in my prayer. 

Alas ! my love, my care, my prayer, 
Failed! failed to keep my treasure fair. 
I saw (my heart filled with despair) 
Her drooping head ; 

Her beauty, grace and fragrance flown, 
Her every leaf and petal shorn, 
I gazed in silence — and alone — 
Upon my dead. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 21 



A RESOLUTION 



Mah ruddah's brokin, an' mah sail 
Wen' ovah bode, in las' night's gale; 
Mah bunkah's empty, steam am low, 
Ise driftin' wid de undah tow. 



Mah neighbah's bark goes skippin' by, 
Wid breeze fat sail, 'neaf clear blue sky; 
Seems lak de bes' ob bes' am his, 
W'ile mine is all de wust whut is. 



But mebbe sumthin', I cain't see, 
Maiks mah neighbah envy me : 
Purhaps I w'u'd hab differn views 
Ef I wuz stan'in' in his shoes. 



So, 'ste'd ob grumblin' 'bout mah lot, 
I'll do mah bes' wid whut I got; 
Kaze He doan ast dat eny man 
Do bettah dan de bes' he can. 



22 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



SONGS AND SMILES 



Well-meaning friends often ask, 
Am I not weary of my task, 
And how I dare give voice to song- 
I who have lain thus so long. 



Many the times a quizzing thought 
Has asked of me why I have sought 
To sing my songs, though oft in pain, 
And if my songs are not in vain. 



To quizzing thought and you, dear friends, 

I fear I offer no amends, 

Except that I find songs and smiles 

Help lessen intervening miles 

'Twixt me and yonder peaceful crest, 

Where I shall rest. 



TRUE FREN 



You sez dat ole frens am de best. 
I begs yore pawden, deed I do, 
Kaze I think he is mighty blest 
Who hab a true fren, ole or new. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 23 



TO AN UNHANGED JUDAS 



Cannibalistic vulture, 
Grown fat upon your brother's blood, 
The Tide you do not seek to stem 
Engulfs you in its flood. 



The cords you bind about his hands, 
Hold your hands doubly fast; 
And when you rend his anchor chain, 
Your bark adrift you cast. 



The day you snuff his light of hope, 
And dim ambition's guiding spark, 
You doom yourself to ever grope 
In tractless waste of endless dark. 



O ! blasphemer of sacred trust, 
Go hide your dirty, double face ! 
Far better were you dead at birth 
Than live to sacrifice your Race. 



Vile cringing cur, unfit to hang, 
Live long to writhe in pain 
Beneath on-marching feet of those 
Who fall — to rise again. 



24 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 

VALUATION 

No man can shape his destiny, 
Though ardent his desire, 
Or shift his heavy load elsewhere, 
Should he perchance to tire. 
Though weak or mighty he may be, 
Though he may "choose and fend," 
The given road allotted him 
Is his road to the end. 



The plodding soul was born to plod, 

The foiler born to foil; 

The driver born to wield the rod, 

The toiler born to toil. 

'Tis not the prestige of your cast 

Among the roles of earth, 

But how well you do what you do 

That demonstrates your worth. 



RETRIBUTION 

Rent and bleeding, 

Upon her knees 

She cried, "Mercy !" 

The voice of Justice, 

Mockingly, inquired, 

"What of mercy have you shown?" 

Four hundred thousand, 

Armless colonists, 

Raised nubs — grim evidence. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 25 

TITLE TOUZLE HEAD 

(To R. V. P.) 

Cum, listen w'ile yore Unkel sings, 

Erbout how low sweet chariot swings, 

Truint Angel, wifout wings, 
Mah 'ittle Touzle Head. 

Stop ! Stop ! how dare you laff et me, 

Bekaze I foul de time an' key, 
Thinks you dat I is Black Pattie, 

Mah 'ittle Touzle Head? 

O, Honey Lam' ! dem sparklin' eyes, 

Dat often laffs an' selem cries, 
Is sho a God gib natchel prize, 

Mah 'ittle Touzle Head. 

An' doze wee han's so sof an' sweet, 
Mates wid dem toddlin', velvet feet, 

Jes to roun' you out, complete, 
Mah 'ittle Touzle Head. 

Sma't ! youse sma't ez sma't kin be, 

Knows yore evah A, B, C, 
Plum on down to X, Y, Z, 

Mah 'ittle Touzle Head. 

De man doan know how much he miss, 

Ef he ain't got no neice lak dis ; 
Fro yore Unkel one mo' kiss, 

Mah 'ittle Touzle Head ! 

I wist sum magic w'u'd ellow, 

(By charm or craf — doan mattah how) 

You stay jes lak you is right now, 
Mah 'ittle Touzle Head. 



26 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



MEMORIES 

I am as fond of fun and jokes 
As other real red-blooded folks. 



I relish bits of breezy spice, 
Within the bounds considered "nice :" 



And do not think, because I'm down, 
That I must whine and wear a frown. 



I love to eat. I love to drink. 
I love to be alone and think 



Of faded days, and of the girls 

Whose mem'ries are a string of pearls. 

No matter what the bliss to-day, 
To-morrow finds it in decay, 

And likewise every sorrow flees, 
Leaving only memories. 



TO A BIRD 

Sweet singer, how I envy you, 
Faint, fleeting, speck 'gainst azure hue. 
You have gone up to chant your lay, 
While I must be content to stay 
Below, and gaze, with hungry eyes, 
Upon you, soaring t'ward the prize. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 27 



ROOSEVELT 



'Tut out the light!" 
He had no need of man-made glow 
With celestial Dawn in sight: 
Unflinchingly, we saw him go 
Onward, to mount the highest Height. 
'Tut out the light !" 



'Tut out the light I" 
His noble soul, stranger to fear, 
Sought not the guidance of a spark 
His active conscience, ever clear, 
Knew little gloom and less of dark. 
"Put out the light!" 



"Put out the light!" 
Apostle of "Preparedness," 
Who lived and died prepared, 
Had he not seen a just redress, 
Could he — would he have dared 
"Put out the light?" 



"Put out the light!" 
A sacred wreath we hang on high 
Upon immortal mem'ry's wall, 
To never wither, droop or die, 
Until we, too, have heard the call- 
"Put out the light !" 



28 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



SPRIN' FEVAH 



Dar's a lazy, sortah hazy 

Feelin' grips me, thoo an' thoo ; 
An' I feels lak doin' less dan enythin' ; 

Dough de saw is sharp an' greasy, 
Dough de task et han' is easy, 

An' de day am fair an' breezy, 
Dar's a thief dat steals embition in de win', 



Kaint defy it, kaint deny it, 

Kaze it jes wont be denied; 
Its a mos' pursistin' stubbern sortah thin* ; 

Anti Tox' doan neutrolize it; 
Doctahs fail to analyze it; 

So I yiel's (dough I despise it) 
To dat res'less, wretchit fevah 

evah Sprin'. 



DAYS 

Do tell me, where is yesterday? 
All-knowing Sage, I dare thee say 
Other than it has been cast 
Into the maelstrom of the past. 



And tell me of to-morrow, Sage, 
If thou canst read an unturn'd page, 
And, also, something of to-day 
That was to-morrow, yesterday. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 29 

DECREED 

(Matthew— 2:15) 

Indirectly, out of Africa you came 
By His decree ; 'twas no miscarried chance 
That bade you face despoilers of His name, 
Upon the red-run battle fields of France. 



Just so, each word, each jot, and every tittle 
That He has ever promised or decreed, 
No matter how majestic or how little, 
Shall follow in the foot steps of His lead. 



A BROOK 



Reflecting ragged 
Flecks of white, 
Upon a background blue, 
A living, liquid, ribbon 
Slips, zig-zag, 
Through meadow land. 



Creeping, leaping, 
Sighing, singing, 
Piu Piano 
At even flow, 
Crescendo ! 
At the rapids. 



30 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



TOIL CREATED 



Dutiful, underpaid bearer of burden 
(Although as oxen your past roles were cast, 
And dark the stage whereon your scene was set) 
The wearing of the yoke of toil has been your 
alchemist. 



Heights imperceptible, by sheer strength surmounted, 
Dire circumstance and hind'ring bars overcome, 
With sinew taut and stamina unyielding, 
Complete, you stand a toil created man. 



TO- 



Though many are the dreams I dream, 
They're born within a single theme. 
The same kind voice I ever hear, 
Instilling faith, upbraiding fear: 
The same consoling smile appears 
To snuff my sighs and dry my tears : 
And fondest heart, of purest gold, 
Is hers whose name I here withold, 
And pray naught ever change my theme, 
Or wake me from my dream. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 31 

SUPPLICATION 

(Dedicated to Cincinnati Branch, N. A. A. C. P., and 
sung to the air, ''America") 

Dear Lord we come to Thee, 

In quest of Liberty, 

Thy mercy lend. 

We know no better way 

Than serve, obey and pray, 

Protect us night and day, 

Almighty Friend. 



Unsheathe Thy vengeful sword, 

Cleave us a way, O Lord, 

As naught else can. 

Let no base foe oppress, 

Let no vain thought repress 

Our future usefulness 

To God and Man. 



We have no ancient creed, 
We have no glutton's greed 
To satisfy. 

We seek the lofty height, 
Where Justice, Truth and Right, 
Condemn oppressor's might, 
Like God on High. 



May World Democracy 
Include equality 
For every one. 
Father, all-wise and just, 
Do as Thou wilt with us, 
In Thee, alone, we trust, 
"Thy will be done." 



32 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 

FRENSHIP 

(To G. B. P.) 

I have filched a mite ob time 
Fo' de writin' ob dis rhyme. 
Seems I c'u'den do a thin' 

ontwil I'd writ it. 
Evah man ain' got a fren' 
Dat kin stir his lyrick pen, 
An' am' evah one kin feel 
Han' clasp lak de grip ob steel: 
Consequently, dey dat kin kin 

not fo'git it. 

Dat prestige am' ha'f bad a bit, 

An' gole is precious, I'll etmit ; 

But dar's sumpin' in dis worl' a 'hole 

heap dearah. 
It's de knowin' ob a fren' 
Dat is yore fren to de en', 
Dough de en' en's in a cloud, 
Or in a caskit, grave an' shroud, 
Yore fren's frenship maiks de 

gloomy outlook clearah. 



OPPORTUNITY 

The shackles rend, your hands are free, 
You need no longer humb'ly bow 
Beneath the lash of tyranny; 
Go shape the molten metal now. 

Behold! "The Door of Hope," ajar, 
And Freedom freely beckoning; 
She bids you gaze upon a star, 
And veer not from your reckoning ! 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 



ZALKA PEETRUZA 

(Who was christened Lucy Jane) 

She danced, near nude, to tom-tom beat, 
With swaying arms and flying feet, 
'Mid swirling spangles, gauze and lace, 
Her all was dancing — save her face. 



A conscience, dumb to brooding fears, 
Companioned hearing deaf to cheers; 
A body, marshalled by the will, 
Kept dancing while a heart stood still : 



And eyes obsessed with vacant stare 
Looked over heads to empty air, 
As though they sought to find therein 
Redemption for a maiden sin. 



'Twas thus, amid force driven grace, 
We found the lost look on her face ; 
And then, to us, did it occur 
That, though we saw — we saw not her. 



34 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



WEDDAH 



It wuz cole, de snow dun drifted 
Hi' roun' 'bout de ole barn do' ; 
Dun blew thoo de cracks an' sifted 
Lines ob white erpon de no.' 
An' de pines wuz bent an' groanin', 
Lak dey c'u'den bear no mo' ; 
An' de moanful win' wuz moanin', 
Ez it nebbah moaned befo\ 



On de ribbah, ice had frozen 
Plum ercrost frum sho' to sho' ; 
Jes ez if de Lawd had chosen 
Dat- it shoulden' run no mo'. 
All de folks wuz tired an' weary, 
Tired ob ice an' tired ob snow, 
Tired ob seein' grey skies, dreary, 
An' de murkahree belo'. 



Wen et las', dat wretchit weddah 
Friz its cruel se'f to deth, 
Birds an' trees an' flowers, togeddah, 
Bade us draw a natchel bref. 
Bade us stroll off in de moonlight, 
Wid May Jane or Emmie Lou, 
On a pleasen' bawmy June night, 
Lak we all wuz wont to do. 



RAYMOND G. D AND RIDGE 35 



Twuzen' long 'fo' dat fair June day 
Turnt to Summah's sicknin' heat ; 
Wid de bode walks, long 'bout noon-day, 
Hot ernuff to cook yore feet. 
An' you'd meet sum one or uddah, 
Drippin', wringin' wet wid sweat, 
Or else, heah ob sum po' bruddah 
Fallin' out or obah het. 



Seems de weddah nebbah pleases, 
Wen we hab it boilin' hot 
We cry fo' de kine dat freezes, 
Alwuz wantin' whut is not. 
But it's clean beyon' our fixin', 
Bofe hab faults an' merits, too, 
An' de Seasons dats betwixin' 
Duzen las' de 'hole yeah thoo. 



EASE 

Oh! foolish one in quest of ease, 

Do you not know that ease on earth, for men, 

Is like unto the "Pot of Gold" 

upon the rainbow's end; 
A wily "will-o'-the-wisp" who 

flees, and flees, and flees, 
Not huriedly, but just a step 

beyond your grasp — is ease? 



36 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



BROTHER MINE 



Prejudice with venom smote 

every word and act; 
Snuffed was the light of knowledge 

from your view. 
Unbefriended martyr, sole object 

of attack, 
Has your fair brother fairly dealt 

with you, 

Brother mine? 



Upon defenseless womanhood 

he preyed ; 
Then freely chatteled blood 

one half his own. 
Just punishment has only 

been delayed; 
'Tis written ; "Ye shall reap 

as ye have sown," 
Brother mine. 



In doctored balance Justice 

balanced you ; 
In your defense her vengeful 

sword ne'er stirred ; 
Courts of Law, barring facts, 

basing guilt on hue, 
Condemned you, ere the evidence 

was heard — 

Brother mine. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 37 



Your constant prayer that you 

might prove your worth 
For equal right to struggle, 

live, and die, 
So long unheard, unheeded, 

here on earth, 
Found audience in One beyond 

the sky — 

Brother mine. 



"Vengence is Mine, I will repay !" 

so saith the Lord. 
Thusly assured, rail not at 

destiny. 
To righteousness He promised 

just reward; 
And to the bondman promised 

Liberty — 

Brother mine. 



A. L. IMES 

Some men go beyond their way 

To advertise, in bold display, 

The knowledge of the favors they may lend. 

Yet, I find one who, if he might, 

Would do his best deeds in the night, 

And in the darkness bid the matter end. 



38 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



CENSORED 



My Harvah rit me week fo' las', 
Dat is, dat's w'en I got it ; 
He sed, he hardly had de time 
'Tween shot an' shell to jot it; 
An' dat he had a rail bad cole, 
But it wuz gettin' bettah. 
Shucks ! I disremembah ha'f he rit, 
So I'll jes' read his lettah. 



"Deah Darlin' Mine : I think ob you 

Wile heah in " dar it's blotted out. 

But dat it twuz sumphin' rail sweet 

An' lubin', dar's no doubt. 

Den takin' up whar blottin' stop : 

"I thanks you fo' de candy, 

De sweatah an' de backah, too, 

Dey sho wuz fine an' dandy. 



"I 'spect to see you, Deah, fo' long, 

De Capin sed — " ain't dat a doun right sin, 

Jes et de inderestin' part, 

Dat blottin' starts ergin ? 

Aldough I frets, I obahlooks 

Caze jes' ez lak ez not, 

Dem bullits whizzin' right an' lef 

Maik enybody blot. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 39 



COLOR BLIND 

True I am black not by my will ; 

I had no choice of hue, 

And none was given you. 

By His decree our roles we fill. 

Red man, Yellow man, Brown man, 

You too, man of white, 

What cause or right 

Have we to emphasize our clan? 

The haughty King, of royal birth, 

The peasant, craftsman, and the slave, 

Stript naked, stand alone on worth, 

Beyond the portals of the grave, 

Before that Bar where all men find 

The Judge of judges color blind. 



ARISE 

Arise ! ye humble undertrodden wight, 

Behold, at edge of yonder east, 

The blazing Sun of Hope adawn ! 

Think ye not thou needst ever be 

The hireling, or an o'er lord's slave; 

For He who makes all men, also made thee, 

Of sinew, brain, and bone, 

And bade thee cleave a bit of earth 

Whereon to stand alone. 



40 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 

BETWEEN LINES 

(In a little book P. P.) 

Learned Sages, 

Scan these pages, 

Recognize the wealth they hold ! 

All those places, 

That seems spaces, 

Golden memories unfold. 

Bord'ring edges 

Are the ledges, 

Whereon rest my rod and staff; 

And there's treasure 

Beyond measure, 

On the fly leaves, fore and aft. 



DECEIT 



No venomous cobra's stab e'er stung, 

Like nectared lies on a false friend's tongue. 

Better by far the deadliest foe 
Who does not fail to let you know 

He is your foe, nor does it smart 
As badly, when he rends your heart. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 41 



DE INNAH PART 

I 'fess Ise ugly, big, an* ruff, 

Mah voice is husky, mannah's gruff; 

But, mah gal sed, "Neb mine yore hide, 

I jedge you by yore inside side;" 

An' sed, dat she hab alwuz foun' 

De gole beneaf de surfuss groun\ 

She claims dat offen rail ruff hides 
Am boun' erroun' hi' grade insides ; 
Wile sum dat 'pear "sharp ez a tack" 
Kinceals a heart dat's hard an' black; 
An', to prove her way ob thinking 
Gibs fo' zample Abeham Linkin. 

Ole "Hones' Abe," so lank an' tall, 
Worn't no pariah posin' doll : 
Yet he stood out miles erbove 
Uddah men, in truf an' love. 
An' in han'lin' 'fairs of state, 
Proved de greates' ob de great. 

In makin' great men, Nature mus' 
Fo'got erbout de beauty dus', 
An' fashun dem frum nachel clay, 
De gritty kine, dat doan decay. 
But, mos' her time she spent, I know, 
Erpon de parts dat duzen show. 



42 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



AT THE BIER OF HOPE 

The night winds drone, in mournful lay, 
A solemn requiem o'er the dead. 
Lamented Hope of yesterday, 
Was there naught you could will instead- 
Naught, save a vast uncharted sea 
Beset with shoals of misery? 
In my heart's blood I dip my pen, 
The tears, fast falling, dim my eyes, 
A sigh escapes my lips, and then 
I strive to rend the binding ties 
That stay my hand lest I should write 
And, thereby, ease a storm swept mind. 
Alas ! though I exert my might, 
Expressiveness I fail to find. 



LOVE 

Invisible, saccharined, 

Intoxicating stimulant, 
I drank of you — drank deep of you- 

Until drunk, yea! until 
Drunk, drunk indeed. 



On sobering I find myself 
Unlike the drunkard, blest, 

Who sobers with an aching head ; 
For I have sobered 

With an aching heart. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 43 



HAHD CIDAH 



Wondah whut on earf tiz ails me, 
Seems I see mo' outlan'ish t'ings, 
Sech ez wagons pullin' hosses, 
An' red mens, wid horns an' wings. 
Mussy ! how dese steps do tremble, 
Dey's jes ez loose ez dey kin be, 
An' dat do'-knob thinks it's clevah 
Playin' "hide an' seek" wid me. 



Dar's a dashah in mah stumick, 
Churnin', flip ! flop ! up an' down : 
Mah po' achm' head am spinnin', 
Whoop-pee-la-la ! roun' an' roun'. 
Tongue dun swole up thick ez two tongues 
Goo' Lawd ! whut is I to do ? 
'Speck Ise got de eppazutic, 
Or dat ah new fangled "Flu." 



I is sartin tizent "Goofoo," 
Caze I am' ett no strangah's grub, 
An' Ise bin nowhar, 'cept callin' 
On mah hi brown Lady Lub. 
We set coatin', me an' Idah, 
'Neaf de arbah, in her yahd, 
Holdin' han's an' sippin' cidah 
Frum a brown jug, labeled "Hahd.' 



44 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



JUDGE YE NOT 

Remember, friend, 

Each harsh word spoken 
May descend 

On poor, heart-broken 
Wretch, whose road 

Would be the brighter, 
If his heavy load 

Were lighter. 



Perhaps you, 

Upon the morrow, 
May be smitten through 

By sorrow; 
Perhaps word 

That you now utter, 
Echo heard, 

Would cause a shudder. 



"Judge ye not" 

Weak fellow mortal, 
Whose dire lot 

And open portal 
May admit you 

(In a measure) 
To a view 

Bereft of pleasure. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 45 



IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

(Written after reading "The Appeal," by Lieut. Col. John 
McCrea; "The Promise," by G. B. Galbreath, and "The Ful- 
fillment," by Joseph A. Clark.) 



THE HERITAGE 



Row on row the crosses stand ; 
The breeze blown poppies nod 
Approval of the gallant band 
Asleep beneath the sod, 
In Flanders Fields. 



No lark is nigh : 

Aloft, a plane (man's eagle of the sky) 
Is strewing wreaths on those who lie 
In Flanders Fields. 



No resting soul need wake to weep 
For faith mistrusted to our keep : 
His heritage is peaceful sleep — 
In Flanders Fields. 



46 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



IN OLE KINTUCKY 

Dey greets you wid a nod an' smile, 

Way down in Ole Kintucky, 
Dat maiks you feel lak life's wuth w'ile 

Way down in Ole Kintucky: 
Dar's honey floatin' on de breeze, 
Dar's coolin' shade beneaf de trees, 
An' gurls ez purtty ez you please, 
Way down in Ole Kintucky. 

Dey duzen stan' yore sass an' slack, 

Way down in Ole Kintucky, 
Ef you hit dem dey hits you back, 
Way down in Ole Kintucky: 
Dar's mountains an' dar's rollin' hills, 
Dar's gullies, bab'lin' brooks an' rills, 
An' dar's sum hiddin coppah stills 
Way down in Ole Kintucky. 

Dar's cole, dar's ine, dar's salt an' oil, 
Way down in Ole Kintucky ; 

An' lebel fid's ob fertile soil, 

Way down in Ole Kintucky: 

Dey raises backah, co'n an' rye, 

Dey ages lickah, bye de bye, 

To wet yore whistle w'en youse dry, 
Way down in Ole Kintucky. 



RAYMOND G. D AND RIDGE 47 



Dar's Colonels an' dar's Majahs, bofe, 

Way down in Ole Kintucky, 
Dat doan do nothin' 'ceptin loaf, 

Way down in Ole Kintucky : 

Dar's famus grass, long, sof an' blue, 

Dar's thairbred runnahs, trottahs, too : 

An' dar's a welcome waitin' you, 

Way down in Ole Kintucky. 



FACTS 

Triumphant Sable Heroes homeward turning, 
Arrayed in medals, bright, and half-healed scars, 
Has service, life, and limb been given earning 
Trophies, issued at the hand of Mars ? 

If your sole gain has been these "marks of battle,' 

If valient deeds insure no greater claim, 

If you are still to be the herder's cattle, 

Then ill spilt blood fell short of Freedom's aim. 

Democracy means more than empty letters, 
And Liberty far more than partly free ; 
Yet, both are void as long as men, in fetters, 
Are at eclipse with Opportunity. 



48 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



A GRAY DAY 

The skies are hung with sullen clouds, 
A fine mist chills the air, 
And earth is wrapt in heavy shrouds 
Of stillness and despair. 

The birds that sang, so merrily, 
Deserters are to-day; 
Once laughing brooks sigh mournfully 
'Neath skies of leaden gray. 



ETERNITY 



Vast realm beyond the gate of death, 
Where craven scavengers and kings, 
Alike, with passing final breath, 
Relinquish claim to earthly things. 



Endless, unexplored expanse, 
Where souls, bereft of mortal clay, 
Wander at will, in peace, perchance — 
Perchance in strife, who dare would say? 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 49 



IN STRIPES 



Two rail pert sma't ellicks, fresh 

frum Smif's Normal School, 
Figgahed dey maik sport ob me, 

played me fo' a fool ; 
Tuk me to Parkah's Garden, whar 

dey keeps de Bears, 
Elephants, an' Tigahs, Lines an' 

Billjen Hares. 



We seen a Hipinpotomus, we seen 

a tall draff, 
An' heaps ob ringtail monkies 

an' Hyenahs dat laff : 
Den nex' we spied a critah 

astan' in' mouchin' hay, 
De boys called him a Zebra 

frum doun in Africay. 



Den dey side glanced each uddah, 

thot dey had me right, 
"Cast dair fly" fo' suckahs an' 

etspected me to bite. 
But 'ste'd, I looked him obah, 

frum his head to his tail, 
An' I seed plain he's jes a 

hoss, doin' time in jail. 



50 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 

GONE WEST 

O. W. D. 

I often wonder, Oscar, 

How it fares with you ; 

Do you look down and smile on us, 

From that vast realm of blue ? 

Tell me, Brother, do you hear 

The belching cannon's roar? 

Does their death-dealing thunder break 

Your peace on yonder shore ? 

I seem to hear you answering, 

That toil and pain and woe 

And care and strife — ah! yes, and death 

Were left behind, below. 



SUNSET 

Round appearing, 

Illuminant fire, 

Built in space, 

Shedding heat, 

Traveling westward ; 

Your photosphere 

Conflicts 

With dwindling light 

Of stricken day, 

At dying hour. 

Emerging from 

The reek appears 

At distant edge of earth, 

A straightened rainbow 

Reaching far into the sky- 

You are an artist, Sun! 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 51 



TRACIN' TALES 

No doubt dat you lak to know 

jes whut wuz ailin' us, 
Why me and Maffew Pleasen'view 

had dat tremandus fuss ; 
So I'll just splain, ez bes' I kin, 

how it dun cum erbout, 
An' leab de placin' ob de blame 

fo' you to figgah out. , 

Furst, Maffew sed, Wash Dudley tole 

May Belle Hannah Lee 
Sum mighty, mighty ugly tales kincernin' 

Nance an' me. 
Den w'en I goes to Dudley 

an' ast him wor it so, 
He sed, he only ovah heared Jack 

tellin' Ismah Lowe. 



Den I goes straight to Ismah, an' 

Iss sen's me to Jack, 
An' Jack sed his wife got it frum 

Ann Marildah Black ; 
Right on to Ann Marildah's 

I ambles on mah way, 
To fine dat she had bin enformed 

by Belledonah Grey. 



52 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



Boun' dat I'd hab de truf fo' long, 

I tuk out once mo' ; 
An' soon Ise stan'in', hat in han', 

et Belledonah's do' ; 
An' w'en I broached her 'bout it, she sed, 

ob co'se 'twas true, 
Caze it cum confidensul frum 

Maffew Pleasen'view. 



A DISAGREEMENT 

You say "That man was made to mourn." 

Would you have me believe it — 

Believe earth holds no recompense 

Until death bids me leave it — 

Believe there is but misery 

And toil on toil, in store for me? 

No. I do not, cannot believe, 

While heaven smiles above me, 

That I was doom'd on earth to mourn 

With naught to cheer or love me. 

Wise Bard, although your dirge rings true, 

I do not agree with you. 



RAYMOND G. D AND RIDGE 53 



EVERYWHERE 

How dare you question Him, or doubt, 
With proof conclusive all about? 
What basis has your faith and hope 
If grave and death conclude your scope? 
Do you not see, as here you stand, 
The working of His Master Hand ? 
Behold you not in field and stream 
Presence of His power, supreme? 
He is a solace to the poor 
In purse and spirit; He is more. 
An all-wise Counsel to the meek; 
A place of refuge for the weak ; 
His Omnipresence fills the air! 
Behold Him, doubter, everywhere! 



SINGIN' AN' PRAYIN' 

De hardes' ob hard rows we hoes 
Fo' little pay, de goo' Lawd knows. 
Yet we hab kep' de heart to sing 
Enspite ob dat ah sort ob t'ing. 
Aldough de outlook ain't so bright 
An' t'ings doan seem to go jes right, 
We still is mighty glad to say 
Dat we ain't plum fo'got to pray. 



54 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



RAIN 



The clouds are shedding tears of joy, 
They fall with rhythmic beat 
Upon the earth, and soon destroy 
Dust dunes and waves of heat. 



Each falling drop enforcement bears 
To river, lake and rill, 
And sweet refreshment gladly shares 
With wooded dell and hill. 



Every flower, bud and leaf, 
Each blossom, branch and tree 
Distills the rain, 'tis my belief, 
To feed the honey bee. 



I pity every wretch I find 
Who, frowning in disdain, 
Is deaf and dumb and also blind 
To beauty in the rain. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 55 



THE NARCISSUS 



Seemingly dead, bent, brown and dried, 
Unnoticed on yon shelf, she lay; 
Until a voice within her cried, 
"Awake ! 'tis Ressurrection Day." 



A slender blade of palest green 
From her inner soul crept out, 
Timid, fearful to be seen, 
A lone adventurer — in doubt. 



Then bolder shoots of deeper hue 
Sprang resolutely into view : 
And, centered in their midst, appeared 
A stem whose head was ever reared 
Upward toward the sun and light, 
Until at last, in raiment white, 
A flower, full blown upon the breeze, 
Did freely waft perfume to please — 
You and me. 



56 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



MAH DEPEN'ABLE FREN' 



He doan care how po' I am, 

Or dat folks calls me "Luckless Sam/' 

Or dat Ise black, 'sted white or red, 

Ez long ez I pat his ole head, 

An' let him scratch his fuzz an' fleas 

Erbout de place whar ebb he please. 



He's bin wid me thoo thick an' thin ; 
Stood by mah side w'en mah blood kin 
Done turnt me loose to sink or swim, 
An' let me tell mah woes to him ; 
Jes laid his ole head on mah knee 
An' good ez sed, depen' on me. 



Las' Toosday mo'nin', jes 'bout ten, 
Dog body-snatchers cot mah fren' 
An' put him in de dog lock up, 
Dong side en onree, mangy pup ; 
An' dar he lay, paws cross his face, 
Ershame to be in sech a place. 



RAYMOND G. D AND RIDGE 57 



Aldough it tuk mah pile, ni' 'bout, 
Doun' I wen' an' bailed him out; 
An' dat ole boy jes understood 
Ez good ez enybody cVd; 
Kaze w'en he seen me makin' bail 
He 'gan to bark an' wag his tail. 



Den, I paid mah las' 'hole dollah 
Fo' dem license on his collah, 
Fust class, gent'man dog's permit 
To let him go whar he sees fit, 
Thout bein' pestard by de scamps 
Dat prey on po' fo' footed tramps. 



ONE WORD 



If I had mighty wings to fly, 
I'd soar aloft in youder sky, 
And paint with fire, to never die, 
One word — Mother! 



Then far out on the desert waste, 
In glist'ning sands again I'd trace, 
So deep that naught could e'er erase, 
One word — Mother! 



58 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



DE DRUM MAJAH 



He's struttin' sho ernuff, 
Wearin' a lady's muff 
En' ways erpon his head, 
Red coat ob reddest red, 
Purtty white satin ves', 
Gole braid ercross de ches' ; 
Goo'ness ! he cuts a stunt, 
Prancin' out dar in frunt, 
Leadin' his ban'. 



Wen dat ah whistle blows, 
Each man behine him knows 
'Zacklee whut he mus' do ; 
You bet ! he dues it, too. 
Wen dat brass stick he twirls, 
Ole maids an' lub-sick gurls 
Looks on wid longin' eyes, 
Dey simpley idolize 
Dat han'sum man. 



Sweet fife an' piccalo, 
Bofe warblin' sof an' lo', 
Slide ho'n an' saxophones, 
Jazz syncopated tones, 
Snare drum an' lead cornet, 
Alto an' clarinet, 
Las', but not least, dar cum 
Cymbals an' big bass drum— 
O ! whut a ban' ! 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 59 



Cose, we all undahstan' 
Each piece he'ps maik de ban', 
But dey all mus' be led, 
Sum one mus' be de head : 
No doubt, de centipede 
Has all de laigs he need, 
But take erway de head, 
Po' centipede am dead; 
So am de ban'. 



PRETTY FLOWER 



Truly thou lovest pretty flowers, 
For pretty flower, thyself, thou art. 
May I, if tenderly I pluck thee, 
Make fast thy tendrils to my heart- 
Pretty Flower? 



And should Fate deem thee answer, pluck me ! 
Would one of meager courage dare 
To place the hand he feels unworthy 
Upon a spotless lily, fair, 
Pretty Flower? 



60 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



PURCAUTION 



Dey think I is "set" an' "fo'gee,' 
An' dey lub to sneer an' laff, 
Caze I duzen fancy black cats 
Crossin' cross man moon-lit paf. 
An' dey calls me "supahstitious, 
Ignant, emptee headed fool, 
Relick ob days, dead an' buried 
Befo' man invented school." 



Dey doan stop w'en black cats cross 'em ; 
Aftah sun down, sweeps de flo' ; 
Cum in yore house thoo de pariah; 
Go out by de kitchen do' ; 
Hang dair hats erpon de bed-stead ; 
Sweep dair feets off wid de broom ; 
Two will sit deysef on one chair, 
Dats p'ovidin' dar is room. 



Dey doan feah "thirteen" nor "Friday' 

Dey puts on de lef shoe furst; 

Lubs to do whut am fo'biddin', 

Jes to aggravate de wurst. 

Dey duz dair way; I duz mah way; 

Many folks hab many mines ; 

I jes ain't de sort, I reckon, 

To defi de bad luck signs. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 61 



MY GRIEVANCE 



Yes, I admit a grievance. 

I also boldly challenge you — 

Come stand where I once stood and fell ! 

I dare say you will do as well. 



Yes, I have long been underpaid, 
Although my brain and brawn has made 
You rich. O ! when do I commence 
Receiving honest recompense ? 



Yes, I am lynched. Is it that I 

Must without judge or jury die? 

Though innocent, am I accursed 

To quench the mob's blood-thirsty thirst? 



Yes, I am mocked. Pray tell me why ! 
Did not my brothers freely die 
For you, and your Democracy — 
That each and all alike be free? 



Yes, I am loyal. But how long 
Must I subsist on bitter wrong? 
How long shall I give smile for blow, 
How long ! How long ! I ask to know ? 



Yes, I admit a grievance. 

I also boldly challenge you — 

Come stand where I once stood and fell ! 

I dare say you will do as well. 



62 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



KASSEL B'lLDIN' 



Hab you evah laid 'wake dreamin' 
B'ildin' kassels in de air, 
Wid de windahs purtty stain glass, 
Marbell hall, and windin' stair ; 
An' a drive ob snow white pebbells 
Runnin' plum up to de stabell, 
Cross a lawn, dats green an' lebell 
Ez a bran new bilyard tabell ? 



Ise dun dun dat varie thin', Sah ! 

An' I wondah kin dar be 

Eny uddah foolish creachah 

Kassel b'ildin', jes lak me. 

But it doan hu't none, I figgah, 

An' I fines it mighty fine, 

Jes alayin' b'ildin' kassels, 

Wen dar's nuthin' on mah mine. 



UNFLINCHINGLY 

When tabes claims my useless frame, 
And I am with my fathers laid, 
I want it said that when he came, 
I met him — "met him unafraid. 



Unflinchingly, full-trustingly, 

I hope to face his icy breath, 

And step into Eternity 

To comfort, through the gate of death. 



RAYMOND G. DANDRIDGE 



TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE 

Through ages down Time's ceaseless span, 
An endless, vivid caravan, 
His mem'ry wends to ever be 
An inspiration to the Free. 



Fearless, black, unlettered slave, 
From nowhere, sprang in time to save 
The freedom of a fault'ring band, 
A tremble 'neath a tyrant's hand. 



Tricked, trapped, ah, yes, betrayed ! 
He died a man's death, unafraid ; 
And dying thus gave proof that he 
Was fit to live — eternally. 



MASQUERADING 



The lips so often frame a smile 
While the eyes in salt tears swim 
And heart, repellent cup of bile, 
Is filled to kiss the brim. 



Oft firm and stern we find a face, 
Devoid of outward sign, 
A mask before the dwelling place 
Of happiness divine. 



64 THE POET AND OTHER POEMS 



SANDY 



Its bin ni ontoe three years 
Since mah Goo' Man, Sandy, 
Marched erway, twixt sighs an' tears, 
Frum his own Mirandy. 
Out yondah on de battle fiel', 
Whar de bustin' bullits squeal, 
An' you often miss a meal, 
Wuz mah Goo' Man, Sandy. 



Now de smoke am cleahed erway, 
An* mah Goo' Man, Sandy, 
Is cumin' home dis verah day — 
Home to his Mirandy. 
Cumin' bac' to co'n fiel's green, 
Wid de snap-beans growin' tween, 
To de chile he's nevah seen, 
An' to his Mirandy. 



